Big Momma
by Scribbler
Summary: Big Macintosh plays reluctant 'mother' for a distraught filly after an incident with two bullies who think it's funny to make fun of ponies who can't keep hold of their parents.


**A/N:** Requested by Finalsight, who gave me the prompt 'Scootaloo's mother is Big Mac'. Incidentally, if anyone would like a ficlet, pop on over to the forums at UKofequestria and make a request, or PM me and I'll see what I can do.

* * *

_**Big Momma**_

© Scribbler, December 2012.

* * *

Big Macintosh was the one to find her. It wasn't any great feat of deduction or detective work; he just remembered where Applejack used to hide when she was the same age and self-conscious about her blank flank. Apple Bloom was a filly who preferred her hooves on solid ground, but until she spent time with the Oranges in Manehatten Applejack had lived with her head always a little in the clouds. So while everypony else scoured the orchards, clubhouse and surrounding area, he plodded to the barn and up the ladder to the hayloft. He figured getting off the ground was key when figuring out where a pegasus who couldn't fly might go to be alone.

Sure enough, Scootaloo was curled up in the straw like a small cat. They used to keep cats on the farm until Winona decided she wasn't about to share her territory with any feline. After that they had to give them all away, since there was no question about Winona not staying. Dad had given Winona to Applejack on one of his rare visits home, like the bundle of needy brown fuzz could make up for a pair of absentee parents. Still, Big Macintosh had memories of waking up on winter mornings when the boiler had broken, his breath steaming even though he was indoors but his body warm because of the small furry kittens curled up on his bedclothes. Sometimes he really missed those cats.

Scootaloo's face was streaked with dried tears. She had clearly cried herself into an exhausted sleep. His first instinct was to wake her, but something made him stop. Even though she was asleep her body language screamed 'Stay Away From Me'. He didn't want to wake her if he couldn't be sure what kind of reaction that would provoke.

Big Macintosh didn't pretend to understand fillies or how friendships between them differed from friendships between colts the same age. He had learned a lot from watching Applejack and now Apple Bloom grow up, but the nuances of female social structure escaped him. What he did understand was the concept of bullying and that you didn't have to steal lunch money or leave hoofprints on somepony's rump to be a bully.

Scootaloo shivered. It was chilly up here with the window open. He was sure he hadn't left it that way and assumed she had opened it. That would make sense if she was feeling sensitive about her wings. A bit of sky-time was good for anypony, he reckoned. It made you appreciate the grand scheme of things a bit more when you stopped and took stock of just how small you and your problems were in the universe. Even so, Scootaloo's trembling body made him want to close the window and cover her with the ratty blanket from the corner.

She stirred when he drew the blanket over her. He paused but she didn't wake. He planned to descend the ladder again and tell everyone that he had found the missing filly safe and sound after she ran off and apparently disappeared after her set-to at school. He had even taken a few careful steps when he heard her sniff dolefully and looked back in time to see a fat tear drip off her eyelashes. He looked between the hayloft door and Scootaloo, hesitated and then went back to nose her out of whatever bad dream was making her cry.

"Don't … go," she murmured sleepily. Evidently she was so tired sleep clung to her like drying clay. Big Macintosh was about to nose her again, more forcefully this time, when her next words made him freeze. "Momma, Poppa, please … don't leave me."

It was common knowledge that Scootaloo's parents weren't a part of her life. The exact details were hazy, but everypony was acutely aware of it, and also acutely aware that nopony talked about it. Nopony, that is, except a couple of spoilt fillies who thought it was fun to turn someone else's private pain into entertainment.

"I'll be good …" Scootaloo said to the apparitions her sleeping mind had conjured. "I … promise …" Another tear slid down her face. She shivered again, although now Big Macintosh wasn't sure whether it was from cold or something else. " … Momma … Poppa … please don't go …"

Big Macintosh wasn't sure what to do. Should he fetch Applejack? She was better at dealing with this sort of thing than him. Or maybe Granny Smith was the pony for the job. Ponies talked about her losing her marbles these days, but she has successfully raised three grandkids and constantly picked up the pieces whenever their parents blew into town and then blew out again. Yes, Granny would be the pony for the job – if she could only climb the steps to the hayloft. Applejack it was then; except that she was out looking for Scootaloo and he didn't know exactly where she had gone –

Scootaloo reached blindly in her sleep for a pony who wasn't there. "Momma?"

Big Macintosh hesitated, and then cautiously hunkered down in the straw, touching her outstretched hoof with his nose. She sighed happily. Even more cautiously he encircled her tiny body with his own massive frame. He curled his short tail around her as best he could and hoped that would bring her some peace, if not some actual warmth. Maybe it was stupid, but it was all he could think to do. Leaving her in such a state was unthinkable. He would have regretted every step down the ladder.

Gradually Scootaloo relaxed, her breathing becoming even as her sleep became more restful. Big Macintosh stayed where he was, resolving to speak to Cheerilee about the behaviour of some of her students. For now, however, he just stayed put, allowing his calm presence to seep into the atmosphere as thoroughly as Granny Smith's had so long ago when he and his sisters had needed it too.


End file.
